


Forgotten Song

by Janieohio



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Birthday Presents, F/M, Gen, Harry Potter is Suspicious, Rituals, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janieohio/pseuds/Janieohio
Summary: What's a poor bloke to think when all the women around him seem to be up to something? Are they really, or is it just Harry's imagination?Written for Harry Potter's 40th Birthday!
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22
Collections: A Very Harry Birthday!





	Forgotten Song

**Author's Note:**

> Today is Harry Potter's 40th birthday, so in honour of this fine day, I'm offering up this lovely story. To those of my wonderful followers who are looking for some Drarry, this story is sadly not Drarry. It does mention his canon pairing, but it's not a central theme of the story, so I hope you can forgive me.

Hermione stood in the clearing of the forest, stoking the bonfire as she awaited her expected company. She kept the hood of her robe down so everyone would see her face when they arrived, but the others were all instructed to maintain their anonymity. Each only knew their own role in the ritual and subsequent plans, and that would keep the secret. After all, a secret shared is a secret broken.

She looked up as the first person popped into the clearing. A shadow spell was cast upon the woman's face, obscuring her identity, but the person nodded to Hermione.

"Three," the person said, the Vox Obscura spell making the voice indistinguishable from any other. Perfect. "Three" meant this was Andromeda, and Hermione mentally checked her off her list.

Over the next several moments, five more forms appeared, each calling out their numbers as they arrived. With herself included, they now counted seven: the full number she needed for her coven ritual. She was ready to begin.

"Did you all bring what you were asked?"

Each woman nodded.

"And the other preparations?" Hermione prompted.

"Ready" or "Underway", each woman said in turn.

Hermione ran through the plans in her mind again, then held out her hand towards the fire. "Perfect. The box?"

Number Four appeared to float forwards in her usual ethereal manner and handed her a small wooden box, its dark wood engraved with intricate details. Hermione smiled. "Thank you. It's beautiful."

Number Four nodded and returned to her position. Hermione placed the box in the small circle next to the fire and stepped back. "The potion?" she prompted.

Number Six, her Veela-blonde hair carefully tucked under her hood except for one escaped tendril, stepped forward and poured the potion over the box, then dribbled it into the shape of a pentagram in the dirt, surrounding the box. She murmured as she poured, "Sister's Love."

Hermione looked up to Number Five. "Your turn."

Number Five stepped forwards, dropping fuzzy leaves on top of the box, then using her wand to ignite the last, she laid it on top of the potioned box and said quietly, "Mother's embrace." The older, somewhat plump woman stepped back into the circle.

"And now the Lover," Hermione said quietly, asking the next to proceed. Number Two approached and sliced her freckled hand slightly, then dribbled her blood around the edges, the deep red colour catching the firelight. "Lover's body," the young woman said proudly, and Hermione felt a pop of power as magic closed the circle.

"Hands, please." The seven women reached out and joined hands, the bonfire behind them, the magic circle between them, and the midsummer's night moon casting a pale glow upon their hoods. "Now, we begin."

* * *

Harry Potter was not, by nature, a suspicious man. Okay, so maybe he'd spent much of his youth sure that his nemesis was _up to something_ , and yeah, there was that time he'd spent a year on the run watching his girlfriend's name walk around on a magical map, and then there was the time he'd thought his Auror Training partner was possibly an Unspeakable, and—

Well, maybe he _was_ suspicious, he admitted to himself as he finished filling out the pile of parchments from his last case, but he wasn't normally _paranoid_. Much.

But he didn't normally have reason to be suspicious or paranoid about his friends and family. For weeks, odd things had been happening. Hushed conversations ended as he entered the room. His girlfriend seemed to be distracted when he caught her unaware and his Auror partner, Susan Bones, appeared to be watching him closely, as though considering something about him. Even Molly and Andromeda appeared to be hiding something when he joined one or the other for a family dinner.

When questioned, though — _questioned_ , not interrogated, thank you very much — everything seemed fine. Harry knew for a fact that Susan rarely spoke to Ginny when he wasn't around, so the two of them couldn't be colluding together. And the most likely suspect, Hermione, was her usual self, brisk and busy when he interrupted her, but juggling her lists and tasks and projects with ease and giving him a smile that assured him all was well.

As though he wasn't a freaking Auror. As though he couldn't tell when people were keeping something from him. As though they didn't all know he hated that crap.

Harry finished the last of his forms, tapped them with his wand to send them to the required recipients, then he stood up, pushed up the sleeves of his red jumper, and decided he was going to get to the bottom of it all. He wasn't sure if there were multiple conspiracies underway to drive him insane or one overarching scheme. Either way, he needed to go to the person who was sure to be the mastermind: Hermione Granger.

He walked out of the Auror wing down the hallway to the law offices portion of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He greeted the few people still at their desks at the end of the workday and approached the door to Hermione's office. He heard her speaking quickly and decisively with someone, but the words were muffled. Hoping to surprise her, he opened the door with no warning.

Hermione looked up, clearly annoyed at the intrusion, and Fleur stood up, a flash of guilty surprise crossing her face so quickly he might have missed it if he hadn't been watching closely — you know, like a _trained freaking Auror!_ He didn't let his irritation show, however, and just smiled pleasantly.

"Ladies," he said congenially. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything?"

"Oh, no, Harry. I was just about to leave anyway." Fleur turned to Hermione. "Thank you, Hermione; à bientôt!" She leaned into Harry as she passed and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Be good."

He smiled, but eyed her carefully, noting the folder of parchments she was carrying and adding it to his mental list of clues. Turning to Hermione, he simply raised his eyebrows and waited.

"Did you need something, Harry?" Did she sound _too_ cheerful, Harry wondered. He entered the room fully and took the seat across from her at her desk that Fleur had just vacated.

"Do I have to need something to visit my best friend?" Harry asked, his tone light.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course not. Just, you usually don't stop by at the end of the day."

Harry shrugged and decided to test a theory. "Ginny is busy tonight, something for work or whatever, so I thought maybe you and I could spend some time together. Just us. What do you think?" There. If she were meeting with Ginny, as he suspected, he'd have thrown a wrench into the proceedings.

Hermione opened her mouth, then her eyes narrowed slightly, and he could see the wheels spinning in her mind as she adjusted whatever strategy she had. "That'd be lovely, Harry. That's a great idea. I only have a bit more here to finish off, so why don't you go on home and I'll meet you there in an hour?"

There'd barely been a delay in her response, but it was there, and he saw it. He knew it! She was in on it! Probably the mastermind of whatever was going on. Harry would be sure to work on her all evening; he was determined to find out what it was.

* * *

Harry lay on the sofa a week later. He was tired. He was tired of being suspicious; he was tired of being left out of things. He was just _tired_. And here he was, waiting on his fiancée to finish getting ready so they could go to their weekly dinner at the Burrow, but he still had no idea what the hell was going on with the women in his life.

"All right, Harry. Come on. It's time to go."

"It was time to go an hour ago," he muttered, aware that he sounded like a sullen child.

Ginny huffed. "Harry."

He looked up at her and immediately lost his train of thought. She looked amazing; her red hair was pulled up into a messy bun, tendrils falling around her face, and she was wearing a gorgeous summer dress in black with large red flowers that adorned her body in a way that made his mouth water, but was still somehow modest and appropriate for a family dinner. "I'm sorry, Ginny." He stood up and leaned forward to nuzzle her chin a bit. "It was worth the hour. You look wonderful."

She smiled and gave a throaty chuckle. "Come on, loverboy. Look, but don't touch yet." She stepped to the Floo, then stopped and threw him a flirty look over her shoulder before she stepped through the flames. He groaned in anticipation and followed.

Arriving into the kitchen of the Burrow, Harry paused, wondering where everyone was. Even when they ate outside, the kitchen was usually buzzing with Weasleys and spouses and small children for Sunday dinners. Shrugging, he stepped out the door to the garden and nearly stumbled in shock.

"Surprise!"

Harry looked around, noticing all of his family and friends, old schoolmates and coworkers, and pretty much everyone else he knew cheering for him. He felt his face flush and his stomach drop.

 _Up to something._ They'd been up to something. He wanted to slap himself. Of course; his birthday was this week. His twenty-fifth, actually, and he supposed that was a good one.

He smiled, thanked everyone, and began to mingle with the guests, all the while checking off all of the odd behaviours of the last months with their explanations. By the time he'd eaten and greeted everyone, all of his speculations had been answered satisfactorily, except one. What had they been up to on the solstice, which just happened to be around the time this all began?

He looked up as the crowd grew quiet and saw Hermione leading a group of other women towards him carrying a small package. She had a shy smile on her face, but behind her, Ginny, Susan, Luna, Molly, Fleur, and Andromeda all looked at him with varying degrees of anticipation.

Hermione spoke, and everyone listened. She had a talent for that, actually. "Harry, we wanted to get you a special gift, something that you could have and keep forever. I'll not tell you how we did it, but we made you this."

Harry cocked his head and saw the earnestness in Hermione's sober gaze. Whatever this was, he suddenly realised, it was the final secret. But if she was adamant about not telling him how she did it — his gaze quickly counted the other women behind her… _Seven_ … Witches' Magic — it'd be pointless to try to know more.

He took the package wrapped in bright red paper and ran his fingers across the red bow. "Should I open it here?"

She smiled and nodded.

Harry untied the ribbon, then carefully peeled back the paper. Inside lay a small wooden box, the rich cherry-red wood engraved with beautiful carvings. Harry noticed several runes embedded amongst the etchings, simple ones he could identify from his Auror training, including those for love, care, and family. He ran his fingers across them and smiled.

"Thank you," he murmured and looked up to meet the eyes of the women standing around him in a circle. "It's beautiful."

Hermione gave a little huff. "Open it, Harry. It's a box. It's meant to be opened."

He looked back down and noticed the hinges on the back and felt a moment of chagrin. Of course. He heard Ginny murmur to Fleur in an amused, mocking voice, " _I'm an Auror, Ginny. I notice things."_

He ignored her and opened the box. In the hush of the garden, with even the children silent, a voice began to sing. A woman's voice that sounded eerily familiar, as though he should recognise it.

_The ash grove how graceful, how plainly 'tis speaking  
The harp through its playing has language for me._

He listened for several more moments, then the next line formed in his memory.

_Down yonder green valley where streamlets meander  
When twilight is fading I pensively rove_

Harry's heart rose into his throat and his eyes began to burn. He looked at Hermione.

"How? It can't be—"

Tears were falling down Hermione's golden cheeks. "It is. I can't tell you how, you know that, but it is. That's your mother's voice. Truly. And it's a song she'd sing you as a lullaby when you were a baby."

Harry listened to the song, his whole world focused on the voice coming from the box.

_I only can brood on the past and its brightness  
The dear ones I long for again gather here._

He felt Ginny's hand on his shoulder, and then she reached forward to wipe off his cheek that he hadn't even noticed was wet.

_And others are there, looking downward to greet me  
The ash grove, the ash grove, again is my home._

Harry regretfully closed the box, silencing the voice once more, then stood and turned to embrace Ginny, still holding the box to his heart. "Thank you, Love." Then he turned and repeated the gesture with each of the other six women. He embraced Molly and Andromeda, the mothers in his life, then Luna and Susan and Fleur and Hermione, women who were like his sisters, and then Ginny once more, his lover and future wife.

Others then stepped forward to admire the box and offer their wishes before leaving, though none mentioned the song or asked to hear it again, and Harry was thankful for that. It was so personal, so perfect, and he wanted to keep it to himself. It was his. His mum. His mum's lullaby. _Merlin_.

He looked at Hermione as she sat down next to him a short time later. "Merlin, Hermione. How did you do all this?"

She cocked her head innocently in question.

"Oh, don't play coy. I know this was you; you're not that sneaky. You might have had help, but this was all your operation."

She snorted. "What can I say? Organisation and planning is my superpower."

He laughed. "And frightfully powerful it is. I'll have to get you a big red cape." He paused. "So what's next? Taking over Britain?"

She grinned and shrugged. "Give me a few more years and we'll see."

Harry nodded, not entirely sure she was joking, then leaned his head down onto her shoulder. "Thank you, 'Mione. For the party, and for my mum. Whatever you did, you're amazing."

She smiled. "Happy birthday, Harry."

* * *

_Finis_

**Author's Note:**

> The Ash Grove is a traditional Welsh folk song that my own mother used to sing to me as a child, and which I sing to my own children as a lullaby. I like this recording of the song:
> 
> [Ash Grove](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yz7BzP5-mEQ)


End file.
